


my body's made of crushed little stars

by sylvainplath



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Academy Era, Birthday Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Making Out, Pre-Time Skip, Stargazing, butterfly kisses, nose kisses, um. a little bit of astronomy talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvainplath/pseuds/sylvainplath
Summary: "Look at the stars with me, Sylvain."Dimitri and Sylvain get a little tipsy.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104





	my body's made of crushed little stars

**Author's Note:**

> title is from a song of the same name by mitski! graciously beta'd by @yurileclerc ! wub em.

Dimitri trips and falls right into Sylvain’s arms. It’s the 5th of the Garland Moon, and the Blue Lions, along with a few of Sylvain’s other friends (Dorothea, Hilda, a terrified Bernadetta), had gathered earlier for a mini party. It was raucous despite its small numbers, and filled with good food and drink courtesy of Dedue and Ashe. All of Sylvain’s favorites, and some new Dedue thought he might enjoy (he did). Personally, Dimitri couldn’t taste a morsel of it, but it certainly smelled divine, even the alcohol. With that thought bloomed in his mind, Dimitri had thought it couldn’t hurt to try. Perhaps if he could taste it, he would recoil at the bitterness. Or maybe if Sylvain told him about the taste, he’d be able to taste it in his mind. 

Sylvain never mentioned it, though.

“Everything good, Your Highness?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Have I said happy birthday yet? Happy birthday!”

Sylvain laughed. The party continued.

By the end of the party, Dimitri had been a bit inebriated. Sylvain caught eye of Dimitri’s lopsided walking, face flushed and bent toward the ground. 

That was then. Now, Sylvain catches him before he topples over. He steadies him by holding his arms, clutching Dimitri close to himself. His grip is bruising.

“Whoa there, Your Highness,” Sylvain says. “Are you okay?”

Dimitri blinks a few times to clear his buzz-induced bleariness. He’s alright, really. He’s just had a little more to drink than he’s used to. He had not realized they’d wandered away from the party spot. He straightens his posture, wiping nothing but anxiety from his trousers. 

“Yes, I am fine. My apologies. It seems that was a bit more than I was prepared for,” Dimitri answers. He clears his throat quietly, wiggling out of Sylvain’s grip.

Sylvain smiles down at him. It’s a quiet, subdued smile. A sort Dimitri hasn’t seen since his childhood. It’s incredibly charming, he thinks.

“Hey, you seem...overwhelmed. Care to step out with me for a while?” 

Sylvain leads him out in the grass where they sit. The night is dark and the lights are minimal. Dimitri slowly scoots toward Sylvain, and snuggles loosely against his chest. When he looks up he sees the night sky and Sylvain’s smile. It feels like his smile glows with the same gentle brightness that the stars behind him boast. They are dimmer in the summer.

Then,

“Look at the stars with me, Sylvain. Like we used to.”

At the same time,

“I mean, Seteth’s stuff is surprisingly strong. I wasn’t -” 

Sylvain shakes his head back like a confused baby animal. He’s cute.

“Um,” he scratches his neck awkwardly. “Thanks, Your Highness?”

Oh. He said that out loud. 

“My apologies,” Dimitri stammers, chuckling, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks. “Perhaps I had too much.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Like I was saying earlier - Seteth’s stuff is way stronger than I thought it’d be. For a guy with such a big stick up his ass, I figured this stuff would be more perfunctory…” Sylvain trails off.

He’s still holding Dimitri. This knowledge makes Dimitri redder with every passing second. “Sylvain,” he tries halfheartedly. “That is incredibly rude.”

“Well if it’s rude,” he says, mouth dry, “then why are you laughing?”

Dimitri doesn’t realize he’s laughing. Odd. 

Sylvain’s face becomes very...fuzzy. Emotionally fuzzy. His eyes don’t physically shine but they feel so much warmer and feel. Cuddly. Dimitri has never been good at explaining emotions. Only feeling them. But if Dimitri were to guess, in this slightly inebriated state, he would say that Sylvain perhaps looks...endeared. Fond.

Dimitri shakes his head. 

Well, it certainly must be strong wine. Dimitri rarely drinks, he is not yet eighteen. Only for important ceremonies has he tried any. He refrains because he does not know what he will do or what his ghosts may ask of him if he is inebriated. But it is Sylvain’s birthday, and he can admit that he was a little bit interested in Seteth’s style of wine. And… a lot interested in making Sylvain happy on his birthday. 

Sylvain giggles. “Hey, you know I’m right.” 

“He is only trying his best to be a reliable guardian,” Dimitri responds with a hand attempting to cover his wavering mouth. 

“Ugh, I know. Flayn hates me now and I’ve spoken to her like, twice in my entire life.”

“Well… I do not condone that. You aren’t bad, Sylvain. I don’t believe it.”

Sylvain looks at him for a long time. Dimitri can’t stop staring at his eyes. At their amber color, the shape of them, the way they flit across Dimitri’s face. 

Eventually, Sylvain speaks. “You wanted to look at the stars, right?”

Dimitri had forgotten he asked that. He flusters. “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“We… used to, as children. Before everything… you know. I miss it,” he continues. 

Sylvain’s mouth opens a little. He licks his lower lip. “Me too.”

“Let’s do that, Your Highness. I know a better spot.”

* * *

“Okay, how well do you know the summer stars?” Sylvain asks.

“Not well,” Dimitri admits. He learned astronomy as a prince, but stargazing was never a summer night's priority. Besides, the constellations visible at the monastery aren’t in the same places in Fhirdiad.

“Alright!” Sylvain sounds enthused. “My time to impress. ‘Kay, so, see that shape up there? Almost directly above us. What do you think it is?”

“Erm, it looks like a triangle. Is it a constellation?” 

Sylvain grins widely. “I’m so glad you asked. This is one of my favorite asterisms.”

“Ah, I see. What stars make it up?” Dimitri nods. He knows asterisms, naturally. Not this one, of course, but as a child he loved arguing with Glenn and Ingrid about what shapes each star cluster made - his favorite was what he dubbed “Loog,” because he thought it resembled a Fraldarius man. 

Sylvain’s grin is so very bright. It’s a rare treasure to see him full of boyish delight. Over astronomy, no less. He’s so much more brilliant than he wants people to know. Without Dimitri realizing, Sylvain’s hands have slipped to each of Dimitri’s shoulders, guiding him gently in the directions he wants. Dimitri feels so warm. Surely he is red. 

“Oh, wait, we should lie back. C’mere!” Sylvain lets him go, falls back into the grass beneath them. He pats the space beside him, then shoves his arms in a cross under his own head.

“Ah… alright.” 

Dimitri settles back on the bumpy ground. It’s uncomfortable, but the grass is cool and soft. “Tell me about these stars, then.” 

Sylvain shifts and points an index finger. “So that one is Deneb - Cygnus, y’know - and this is Vega, and the last one is Altair.”

“Ah, they’re all part of other constellations. If I recall, they are the brightest, yes?”  
  
“Uh-huh. Look at you, you good boy. Remembering all your lessons.”

Dimitri chokes. Sylvain starts, suddenly nervous. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have. I’m a little drunk, whoops.”

“No, don’t worry. It’s… it is nice that you are unfiltered. I like it.”

Sylvain’s avoiding eye contact. It’s dark, so Dimitri can’t tell, but he wonders if perhaps Sylvain is blushing. “Uh, anyway, let’s. Just enjoy the stars together, mkay? Let me show you this one -”

Dimitri lets Sylvain show him all his favorites, and somehow they end up entangled in each others’ arms. 

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain says. “I shouldn’t have pressured you to drink. I know you wouldn’t normally, so that’s why I was so insistent...I didn’t think you’d cave. But that’s no excuse, so I’m sorry...Dimitri.”

Dimitri has to laugh at this, because Sylvain sounds so terribly guilty and angry at himself, but Dimitri is literally snuggled in Sylvain’s arms right now. And Sylvain said his name. His name. He stops laughing. There’s a brief moment of silence until Dimitri finally caves into asking him a question that would always bother him. “Sylvain, are you...apologizing to me? The person. Not the prince...the political figure.”

Oh, dear, he should have phrased that differently. He feels Sylvain’s chin dig as he tries to look down at Dimitri without pulling him out of Sylvain’s neck. Eventually he pulls back enough to look down at him. Dimitri pouts, truly pouts, at being pushed away. 

“It’s cold now,” he says.

Sylvain pats Dimitri’s hair. “Hey, you. I’m still here. And of course, yes.” His hand trails to Dimitri’s cheek, looking at him with his soft furrowed brows. “I’m apologizing to… my friend Dimitri. Not the prince of Faerghus, make sense?”

Dimitri’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. His lips tremble. He rolls over a bit, onto Sylvain’s chest, traps him with his thighs. “Thank you.”

Sylvain swallows and Dimitri’s eyes flit to the bob of his throat. Mesmerizing. He looks up again, notices that Sylvain’s eyes are just a little bit shiny, so soft Dimitri feels swollen. Sylvain licks his lips. He’s dumbfounded looking at him. “Your Highness,” he says. “If you keep looking at me like that I might fall in love with you.”

Dimitri’s throat catches, split between the strange ache Sylvain brings to his chest and his disappointment at the distance implied in “your highness.” It makes him sick. He strokes the sides of Sylvain’s neck, rough patches and scars catching on his soft skin. He’s so warm. “Please don’t call me that.”

Sylvain’s mouth flattens, whether positively or negatively Dimitri’s hazy mind cannot tell. “Alright, then,” Sylvain says. “Dimitri, if you keep looking at me like that I might fall in love with you.”

Dimitri’s mouth is open, dry. The cool night air dregs across the ripples of dry skin on his mouth, the roof of his mouth feels flaky. His throat cracked like he’s ill. He is a little bit drunk and very bewitched. For the umpteenth time tonight, he blurts out something stupid. “Sylvain, you’re beautiful.”

“Um,” he whispers. “You too.”

Dimitri’s neck moves him of its own will closer to Sylvain. Their noses are almost pressing together. “You do not have to apologize… I may be younger than you, but I know what I’m doing. I wanted to have fun with you on your birthday… We never have fun together anymore, you and I.”

Sylvain looks incredibly somber. Dimitri begins to worry, when his look morphs into awe. “Dimitri, I appreciate that so much. Thank you. You’ve made this day so special.”

Sylvain sounds breathless, his voice never raising enough to be more than a crackled whisper. Dimitri rubs their noses together, like a little kiss. Sylvain taught him that, when they were younger. Sylvain was so gentle with him when they were young. Dimitri puffs out an amused sigh, weakly. He misses it. 

“Sylvain, I want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t look up at him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Sylvain looks horrified. Instead, he flutters his eyelashes across Sylvain’s cheeks, under his eyes, near his ears. His lips glide across Sylvain’s face as he goes. He’s soft and unblemished. He smells good, a little sweet. A hint of gardenia. Dimitri likes that. 

His lips connect any place he desires. Under his eyes, on his nose, his forehead, the side of his neck. 

He’s enjoying himself, he is relaxed. But Sylvain whimpers under his little kisses and tugs him softly back. “Sylvain?”

Sylvain’s hand rests at the nape of Dimitri’s neck. He starts to soothe over the hair at Dimitri’s nape, looking anxious. He opens his mouth. No sound. Closes it. “Oh,” he sighs. “Fuck it. I’m drunk.”

Sylvain cups Dimitri’s jaw with his other hand and throws himself up at Dimitri’s face. He smushes his mouth inelegantly on Dimitri’s lips, messily eager, pressing himself in and in. 

“Okay,” he huffs when they separate. “Let’s kiss then, kiss me. Kiss me.”

They do. Rolling around under the summer stars, in the fresh, sweet smelling grass. Really, a horrible idea but Sylvain would be lying if he said he cared. It feels right. It feels _nice_ and Dimitri feels freer than he really ever has. Perhaps this is the feeling people seek when they consume alcohol. He’s alone but for Sylvain, soft and sturdy, warm eyes and safety. 

Dimitri’s hair is a wreck spewed in all directions by the time they are finished. His dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, collar open. His lips swollen and throat marked. He looks down at Sylvain and his pink, pink lips. Sylvain is smiling up at him, softer than Dimitri remembers ever seeing. His eyes glow. 

“Tired, huh?” Sylvain asks, stroking two fingers across Dimitri’s cheek.

Dimitri looks away. “Mm. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, weirdo. Me too.”

“Let’s sleep, then.”

“Mkay, c’mere first.”

“I’m already here,” he laughs. “How much closer can I get?”

They never stop touching. Dimitri feels cold and lonely if he tries, like a gust of winter air has hit him. Sylvain moves Dimitri’s body around until he’s satisfied, switching him from atop Sylvain to his side, tucked tightly into him. Winds their legs together, his right arm around Dimitri’s neck, and left settled at his hip.

“See? Better. Bed time.”

“Happy birthday,” Dimitri mumbles, hot in Sylvain’s neck. He kisses his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Sylvain kisses his bangs. “Night.”

There in the grass, tucked into each other, they sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> @sylvainplath on twt. forgive me for blithering a little on the astronomy part i just . summoned all my old planetarium presenter knowledge and spat it out.


End file.
